


Pushing Forward, Pulling Back

by Marks



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-04
Updated: 2006-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2953772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oishi thinks about his future, and Eiji gets hurt in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pushing Forward, Pulling Back

**Author's Note:**

> Though I still seem unable to manage above a PG-13 rating in any fandom that's not Harry Potter, at least this one has an actual plot! No real warnings, but there is scary!Fuji and a rather weird dream sequence.

At Kawamura Sushi, Oishi makes his announcement. All of the people Oishi thinks of as regulars are present, even Echizen who technically can't be a regular yet since he's still in junior high. But, Oishi supposes, as he takes a deep breath and stands, soon he won't be a regular either.

Oishi is in his next-to-last year in high school, never going pro, and has just had a very long talk with his father about his future. He's known tennis wasn't it for a while now. He just wishes he had a little more time.

"I'm going to be a doctor," he tells them all. "I'll help my uncle while I go to school, then eventually sports medicine. Next year I won't have time for tennis because of my studies, so you have to promise me you'll get to nationals again and defend our title."

He looks from face to face, some looking sadder than others, but there are supportive murmurs, too. They'll mostly be going their separate ways next year anyway; Oishi's just getting a head start.

Eventually, he gathers enough courage to look across the table at Eiji. He expects to see hurt there and it his stomach twists as he thinks about it.

Eiji doesn't look hurt, though. He stares at Oishi, stony-faced, expressionless, then looks down at his food again without saying a word. Oishi doesn't know what to make of that; it seems _wrong_.

\---

After some time where Oishi misses most of the conversation and picks at his food more than he eats it, the group begins to disperse. Eiji bolts out the door before Oishi can even say goodbye, and knowing Eiji will be long gone if Oishi stares after him, he runs outside.

"Eiji!" he calls, breathless. His hands are clenched at his side.

Eiji stops. "Yes, Oishi?" he asks in a deep, unfamiliar voice, and Oishi hadn't known before how much it could hurt to have his name pronounced properly.

"I-- you didn't say anything. Inside. About what I said inside." He still sounds out-of-breath, even though he barely ran at all. "I'm sorry," Oishi continues before Eiji can reply.

"I was expecting it sooner or later." Eiji waves and turns to leave, either ignoring or not noticing the confusion written on Oishi's face. "See you at school."

Oishi gapes after him for a moment, watches as Eiji ducks his head and sticks his hands into his pockets.

"Eiji!" Oishi calls again, plaintive. Eiji doesn't stop this time and doesn't turn around. He looks very small as he heads toward the horizon.

\---

School passes in a fuzzy blur, making Oishi think that if this is him without tennis then maybe quitting a year early isn't the best idea.

On his way to organic chemistry, he sees Eiji speaking animatedly to Fuji in the hall and offers a sheepish wave. Eiji abruptly catches Fuji by the elbow and leads him away; Fuji's eyes open wide as he spies Oishi. A myriad of emotions floods his face, none of which Oishi is fast enough to interpret. He finally settles on a sympathetic smile -- the genuine one Oishi sees so seldom -- before he lets Eiji lead them both out of Oishi's sight.

Oishi's shoulders slump. He knows damned well losing tennis has nothing to do with his mood.

\---

Books are spread out all over one of the library's tables, but Oishi barely glances at his math homework before drawing doubles formations in his margins. His margins have been filled for days.

"Are you busy?" asks Tezuka, suddenly near Oishi's ear. Oishi jumps and causes half of his history notes to scatter. Tezuka looks over Oishi's doodles, but only says "Nice two-up formation" before inviting Oishi to play a pick-up match.

"I really shouldn't," says Oishi, gesturing at his piles of books and papers.

"Yes, I see you're getting much accomplished," Tezuka observes, his finger landing right in the middle of Oishi's blank notebook page.

Oishi smiles, slightly. "I suppose I could probably do with the distraction. Let's go."

They change before heading over to the clay courts near the train station. Oishi has to wear his gym uniform and borrow Tezuka's racket, but he has so much pent up frustration that he manages to take two games and knock Tezuka's racket out of his hands before he breaks a sweat.

Oishi can't remember that _ever_ happening.

Tezuka actually has to use his drop shot to steer the game back in his direction, but then he's using the Zone, forcing Oishi to run to the net and back to the baseline over and over. The match ends 6-2 with Oishi flat on his back on the ground.

Tezuka's shadow looms over him. "Are you all right?" He offers a hand up.

Oishi struggles to his feet. "I've been better."

"You made me lose my racket."

"Ahh," Oishi says, scratching the back of his head. "I had a few things to work out."

"Hn. I see." Tezuka clears his throat, looking awkward. "You know. The other night I noticed...noticed the way Kikumaru reacted to your news."

"Did you?" The lines of the court have been repainted since the last time Oishi was here.

"Yes." Tezuka's shoelaces are double-knotted. "I'm not happy you're not playing, either, Oishi. He's just--"

"Disappointed? Angry? Hurt?" Oishi's voice rises on every word. "Missing a doubles partner? Never going to speak to me again?"

When Tezuka shuffles backward his sneakers make loud scuffing noises against the court.

"I'm sorry, Tezuka," Oishi says with a sigh. "I feel like I'm letting down a lot of people."

"You worry too much about other people. You should worry more about yourself."

Oishi laughs and lifts his head. "Look who's talking."

Tezuka smiles, just a little. "Why don't you try talking to him?"

\---

After dinner, Oishi rushes to his room without even offering to help clear the table. "Do you still have much homework left, Shuichirou-kun?" his mother calls after him.

"Some!" he calls back, sliding the door to his room shut. Ten minutes later as he blankly stares at his exponentially growing work pile, he's glad she hadn't asked whether or not he'd be _completing_ his homework.

He's barely gotten to say two words to Eiji in over a week, let alone had a proper conversation or played a match. They've argued before, definitely, because of Eiji's impulsiveness or Oishi's martyrdom, but they've always _argued_. He's used to hot bursts of anger soon followed by tentative apologies, not this cold freeze.

The Eiji he met years before is still fresh in his mind, bouncing everywhere and making fun of the way Oishi would trail after Tezuka to anyone who could hear, even if that anyone happened to be Oishi. He remembers beating Eiji for the first time and the way Eiji appeared before him afterward. He hadn't planned on asking Eiji to play doubles then; when it slipped out, it was a surprise to both of them. But it worked.

 _They_ worked. Work. Whatever. Even if Eiji surpassed him way back in junior high.

Oishi tiredly throws his pen onto his notebook, leans back in his chair, and rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. He tries to ignore the way his heart hurts.

His mobile rings then, vibrating right off the edge of his desk. Oishi makes a dive that would make any player proud before nearly dropping it again when he sees the caller is Eiji.

Oishi fumbles, finally managing to flip the phone open. "Hello?" he says breathlessly.

There is a long silence on the other end.

"...Eiji?" Oishi prompts.

Eiji makes a little whimpering noise that sends Oishi's stomach straight to his knees. "I-- I dialed the wrong number," mumbles Eiji, sounding more like himself than he had the other day. "I'm sorry."

Oishi bites his bottom lip. "It's all right." Please don't go, he thinks, but the words stick in throat.

There is another long pause where neither of them hangs up, and Oishi can feel blood pounding behind his eyes.

 _The prefrontal cortex,_ says one part of his brain, while another part that sounds disturbingly like Tezuka says, _Why don't you try talking to him?_

"I have to go," Eiji says suddenly, just as Oishi blurts out, "I miss you!" There is a click and Eiji's gone.

"Damn it!" Oishi's phone bounces on the carpet.

It takes a long time for Oishi to fall asleep that night. His stomach hurts so much that he considers playing sick just to avoid school the next day. He's a terrible liar, though, and has never played sick a day in his life.

\---

He's having one of those dreams where he knows he's dreaming.

Oishi is still in his t-shirt and worn flannel pajama bottoms, but there's a racket in his hand and a net is stretched across a nebulous floor. He's not wearing shoes, but he can easily bounce from side-to-side, and he feels his spine curve into the top position of the Australian formation even though he usually takes the back.

Momoshiro and Kaidoh are staring at him from across the net. Oishi blinks, and then they're screaming at one another, fists drawn back, pulling on the front of each other's shirts. He can't make out what they're saying.

"Stop fighting!" he yells, thrusting his racket high in the air.

Momo and Kaidoh both stop and shrug at each other.

"This what we _do_ , Oishi-senpai," Momo explains. "This is how we play doubles."

Kaidoh narrows his eyes. "At least _we're_ still playing."

Then they're fighting again, throwing punches and rolling around on the ground. Inui is on the sidelines, holding his notebook and watching.

"Can't you stop them?" Oishi asks, horror-struck.

Inui pushes up his glasses and stares at Oishi. "That would ruin the data."

Oishi shakes his head and they're all gone, only to be replaced by Kawamura, dressed for work at the restaurant.

"Taka-san!" says Oishi. "Please tell me something. When you stopped playing was it very difficult for you?"

Kawamura lunges toward Oishi and wraps his hands around Oishi's neck like he's clutching a racket. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD," he screams in English as Oishi gasps for air. "LIKE BURNING."

He lets go of Oishi's throat, and Oishi collapses to the ground. When he looks up, Eiji hovers above him. Oishi stretches out one hand, his fingertips not quite reaching. Eiji turns away.

"He misses you, too," says Fuji, appearing on his knees at Oishi's side. His expression is serious, and his voice distorts and echoes. His hair somehow moves on its own. "You're leaving him."

"Not _him_!" Oishi protests, just as he wakes up drenched in sweat. "I'm not leaving _him_ ," he mutters into the darkness.

\---

Fuji catches up with Oishi the next day, his expression so serious and reminiscent of his appearance in Oishi's dream that Oishi's palms start to sweat.

"Fuji!" he greets, his voice high and strained.

"We haven't spoken in awhile."

Oishi rarely speaks to Fuji outside of tennis, even though Eiji and Fuji are as close as he and Tezuka are.

"Oh. Well, no. There are exams to prepare for, so no harm done."

Fuji steps in close and grabs Oishi's upper arm; Oishi thinks of the way dream-Kawamura's fingers pressed against his throat. He resists the urge to gasp for air. Fuji tilts his head and studies Oishi's expression, and nods. Oishi is relieved he apparently passed whatever test Fuji has issued.

"He misses you, too," Fuji says.

"What?"

Fuji's eyes are very, very blue. "He heard you before you hung up. And then I spent a good chunk of my evening listening to Eiji make plans and backtrack on them. He is very confused. He is very frustrated. You need to make him speak to you."

"I don't want to impose--"

"Eiji thinks you're leaving him, Oishi. It's up to you to convince him that this has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with tennis."

Oishi has dealt with Eiji's insecurities before, but never quite like this.

"When are you both going to realize being the Golden Pair stopped being about _tennis_ long ago? You're being idiots. Start playing the right game."

Oishi's eyes widen as Fuji smiles and steps back.

"Good luck, Shuichirou-kun. I hate seeing Eiji hurt." Fuji has the pleasantest voice Oishi has ever heard. He turns to leave, but not before adding, "You look tired. Don't you get enough sleep?"

Oishi's head hurts.

\---

"Mada mada da--"

"Hoi! Don't you dare say it!"

Oishi hears Echizen and Eiji even before he reaches the top stair of the street courts. There are a few people sitting in the stands and Oishi takes a seat near the top, just watching.

Eiji hits Echizen's serve with a neat flip that earns him a smattering of applause. Echizen returns the shot with a smash that lands exactly on the baseline. The applause grows, and Oishi slides down a row.

"15-love!" calls one of Echizen's teammates, a second year from the junior high who is standing on the sideline.

"You bounce around too much," Echizen tells Eiji.

"Quiet down, Ochibi-buchou," Eiji replies, hunkering down for Echizen's next serve.

"Stop calling me that. I'm taller than you are now," Echizen says. Oishi notices he doesn't seem to mind the 'buchou' bit. This is the first year Seigaku has won both the junior and high school divisions at nationals, even though Tezuka is only Vice Captain this year.

Next year Seigaku will surely dominate the high school division again, but Oishi will be watching everything from the sidelines. There's a certain relief in that.

"Echizen, 2-0! Change court!"

Eiji and Echizen slap hands as they change sides and Oishi experiences a rush of envy he's never felt toward Echizen before. He's never bothered being jealous before because he knows he's never been a real hurdle for someone as talented as Echizen, but like everything else in Oishi's life lately, even things that seem to be about tennis have nothing to do with tennis at all. Before, Echizen was never allowed to touch Eiji when Oishi couldn't.

Oishi moves down until he's sitting in the middle of the stands.

Eiji holds his own against Echizen, fluidly moving across the court, seemingly appearing in two or three places at once. His stamina is amazing compared to what it had been two years ago, and it's Echizen who starts sweating hard first. Echizen's shots are stronger and more polished, though, and soon it's easy to see who will take the match.

Oishi moves down to the third row.

"Game, Echizen, 6-3!"

Oishi worries about Eiji's reaction, but when he looks at him, Eiji is practically glowing. He tackles Echizen to the ground with an enthusiasm that probably has Echizen dreaming up murder scenarios. Oishi swallows hard as he watches them. His stomach has turned to water.

He has spent more time than is probably healthy thinking over Fuji's conversation from the day before, losing even more of his much-needed sleep. Oishi has always told himself that there'd be plenty of time for relationships later. He'd meet a nice girl at university, get married and attend medical school, then maybe have a couple of children like his parents. There have always been girls around, but there's also always been tennis -- there's always been Eiji.

But now that Oishi has given up tennis, he knows it's not the girls that he wants. He hides his face in his hands.

"Oishi-senpai!" calls Echizen, making Oishi's head snap up. Echizen and Eiji are both standing at the foot of the benches.

"Ah, hello, Echizen." His cheeks feel very warm, and he can feel Eiji's eyes on him. "You looked great out there." He takes a deep breath and stares straight at Eiji. "Both of you."

Eiji's eyes go wide, and Oishi can see his Adam's apple bob. "I have to go, Ochibi," he murmurs before grabbing his bag and hurrying off the court.

Echizen rolls his eyes after him.

Oishi leaps to his feet. "Nice seeing you, Echizen," he says with a sigh.

"You too, Oishi-fukubuchou."

"Not anymore," says Oishi, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Echizen only smirks and rolls his eyes again before turning away.

Oishi smiles at Echizen's back, then heads after Eiji. He doesn't hurry because he wants to give Eiji a few minutes to pull himself together, and besides, Oishi knows exactly where he'll be.

\---

Eiji rests his chin on top of his knees as he stares out at the horizon. "I've been waiting for you," he says before Oishi has a chance to say a word.

"But I was right behind you." The sun is setting. Oishi has lost count of how many times the two of them have come here.

"Now," Eiji says, wrenching around to look at Oishi. He squints, even though the sun is behind him. "I've been waiting here every day this week."

"Waiting?" Oishi asks. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and walks across the storage container, his footsteps echoing with every step. When he sits down, it's so close to Eiji that their thighs touch, and their knees, and their shoulders. He's probably sat this way with Eiji a thousand times at least, exchanging water bottles and grip tape without even needing to look at each other, but Oishi can't recall ever being so nervous before. "I thought you were mad at me. I was giving you time."

Eiji nudges him with his shoulder. "I'm always waiting for Oishi."

"Yes, well, Eiji passed me years ago." There's no bitterness in his voice, but Eiji looks at him with surprise. "What, you didn't know that?"

"We're a team," Eiji says, shaking his head. _He_ sounds bitter. "You didn't want us."

Oishi shakes his head so hard he nearly cracks their heads together. "You're wrong, Eiji. I don't want _tennis_. At least, not in competition anymore."

"You don't know what you want," says Eiji.

"No, I do know!" Oishi insists. "I want..." He blushes and looks at his knees.

Eiji whines a little; Oishi blushes harder. He squeezes his eyes shut and on impulse gropes for Eiji's hand. Their fingers link and their palms press together.

"I know what I want," Oishi tells his knees. Eiji's hand twitches in his, and Oishi wonders if he hasn't made a horrible mistake. "Just because I don't want tennis..." He looks up and finds Eiji staring at him. "Doesn'tmeanIdon'twantyou," Oishi finishes in a rush.

It feels like someone has just slammed a smash against the inside of his rib cage, and breathing is suddenly really, really difficult.

"I want us," he says after he manages to suck in a breath.

"Ohh," says Eiji, but that's the only thing he has a chance to say before Oishi kisses him.

Eiji's lips are soft and his eyes are wide open with shock, but he doesn't pull away, not even after Oishi leans in more and closes _his_ eyes because he thinks them watching each other while they kiss is probably a little weird. He pulls his hand free of Eiji's and twists his body until his palm rests flat against the steel top of the container. Reaching up, he presses his other hand against the back of Eiji's neck, his fingertips just barely brushing Eiji's hair.

Oishi's lips part almost without him thinking about it, and then Eiji's tongue is inside his mouth -- _inside his mouth_ \-- and pressed against his, tasting. It's all a little shocking, even if Oishi has been thinking about this pretty constantly for the last day, and even before that if he's being honest.

They kiss until Oishi's lips tingle and his whole body feels like it's blushing. Eiji's hands seem everywhere at once, not that Oishi is stopping himself from touching Eiji's leg, his face, his shoulder, his side where his shirt has ridden up a little. They're in plain sight and anyone could come along and see, but for the first time that he can remember, Oishi doesn't care what anyone thinks of him.

When they finally break apart, Oishi isn't sure how it happened, but he's leaning back on his elbows and Eiji is half-draped over him. He's breathing hard and Eiji sounds a bit winded himself.

"Oishi!" Eiji exclaims in surprise, like he hadn't just participated in twenty minutes of serious making out. His lips are very, very red and it takes every thread of Oishi's ragged self-control not to stretch up and start everything all over again.

"Yes?" replies Oishi, dazed, a dopey little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"What made you do that?"

"I told you. It's what I want."

"Oishi..."

Oishi sighs. "Okay, well, I realized I wanted to after talking to someone."

"It was Fujiko-kun, wasn't it?"

"How did you know?" asks Oishi, surprised.

"Nya, of course it's him!" Eiji replies, as though there was no other possibility. "Did he hurt Oishi?"

Oishi notices his name has earned its slur again. "Of course not! He did warn me never to hurt you on purpose, though." Eiji's eyes go wide. "Don't worry about it. You're lucky to have him for a friend."

Eiji rolls his eyes, but he's smiling.

"So you're not mad at me anymore?" Oishi asks, tilting his head to one side.

"I wasn't mad," Eiji says, pressing his hand against Oishi's chest. Oishi shivers. "I didn't want you to leave, but I didn't want to stand in your way. I've held you back a lot."

"You've never held me back, Eiji. And I'm not going anywhere," Oishi says as Eiji presses his face against Oishi's neck and mumbles, "Obviously."

Oishi's head falls back and his eyes drift shut as Eiji's lips press against his collarbone. "I was...ah...I was never leaving you, okay?"

"Okay, Oishi," Eiji agrees, lifting his head again. "But it been over a week! You owe me at least three matches and a bunch of phone calls and ice cream, too! Hoi!"

Oishi grins so hard he can feel the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Okay. How much ice cream?"

"Lots! And I want to buy new sneakers and some fish like you have, too, so you have to help me pick those out."

"All right."

Eiji bounces a little at that. Oishi likes the pressure of Eiji's body against his, but he wonders how Eiji can do that without wanting to moan. Eiji suddenly lets out a little whimper, though, and moves away. Knowing it's not just him is a relief.

"Has Oishi finished his math homework?"

There is a stack of unfinished homework a foot high sitting abandoned near his desk at home, and his mother is probably wondering where he is. Oishi doubts that 'making out with Kikumaru-kun' qualifies as a valid excuse for being late to dinner.

"Not yet," Oishi admits.

Eiji pouts. "Darn! I was hoping you could help me...I've fallen behind this week." Oishi can relate.

With a shy grin, Oishi says, "You could come to dinner at my house and we can do homework after. My mother won't mind, though you might have to deal with my father asking you what you plan on doing with your future."

Eiji looks mildly horrified by this, but agrees anyway.

Oishi gives Eiji a hand up, but doesn't let go right away once they're on their feet again.

Eiji kisses Oishi on the nose, and Oishi blushes to the roots of his hair. "You're going to make a great doctor, Oishi. You care about everyone."

"You're going to make a great anything, Eiji." He quickly presses their lips together. "And I'll be there for whatever that is."

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Eiji slings his bag over his shoulder and runs ahead, skidding to a stop and tapping his foot impatiently when Oishi lags behind.

There are worse things than the future, Oishi supposes, breaking into a jog. And he suddenly can't wait.


End file.
